It has been a bright and shining day.
The sky blue, the clouds white and high-
like castles above our heads.
We went into the farmland and bought flour and noodles and lettuce, etc
from the bulk stores. The Mennonite women in their caps and long dresses
smiled at us with our happy little boy and laughing baby.
The baby is leaving tomorrow.
Going with our prayers and blessings and tears.
It was a beautiful day.
And this early evening, the skies are even bluer-
the shadows coming over the landscape in hues of indigo.
I believe in happy endings, but also in contained sorrow.
What I really believe is that this is not the end.
When we first moved to our location, here in Copley, the house was a little
old 1 1/2 bedroom building with yellow paint peeling off the wooden siding.
I was pregnant with our oldest son and it was our first home.
In the house the rooms were light and bright and renovated- but worn and
lived in. The kitchen was small and had room for a small table to eat at- and
the cabinets were pine and few. Inside one of my cabinets a child had written
his name with permanent black marker, BRIAN.
The first time I saw his name, I was annoyed.
I tried to scrub it out with Lysol.
I tried several other products, but the name remained.
And so, I decided to pray for Brian, everytime I opened the cupboard door
I prayed for Brian. I prayed for him every day for 7 years. And then –
we tore down that little house and built a new one with new cabinets and big
bedrooms and bathrooms and a huge kitchen.
But by that time I was used to praying for Brian and so I kept it up.
By then it had become,”Lord, please protect Brian from the evil in the world,
and bring him safely through the storms in his life.”
Then, one day, a young man in his thirties knocked on our door.
He was selling Omaha Steaks- frozen foods, individually packed. He said that
he had a couple of orders he couldn’t deliver and was wondering if we would
like to look at the quality of the meats and get them at a good price.
I was just about to say no thanks and shut the door, when he said, “You know, I
used to live here, in this neighborhood, but the house isn’t here anymore.”
I looked at him, and said, “Brian?”
He was shocked.
“Yes, how did you know my name?”
“Because you wrote it on the cabinet door in permanent marker.
I’ve been praying for you for years.”
He shook his head in disbelief.
“Seriously, you’ve been praying for me?”
We talked for a good while after that. No further mention of steaks.
He said he’d had some troubles as he grew up- ended up in jail a couple of times-
but he’d always been given an opportunity to get right- to do things better- and that
he was finally doing well .
He left after thanking me for praying for him.
I still pray for him, sometimes.
And I’m going to be praying for that laughing baby.
Always.
